


Motorcycle Built For Two

by helens78



Series: Not So Platonic [3]
Category: Establishment RPF
Genre: F/M, Motorcycle Sex, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-28
Updated: 2008-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pierce takes Lin out for a motorcycle ride and then invites her along on a very different kind of ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motorcycle Built For Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zillah975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillah975/gifts).



> I wrote Pierce Brosnan in an RPG many moons ago; his best friend was a brilliantly-written Linda Fiorentino, and it was often to my great dismay that his sexuality had been set in stone early in the game. I have occasionally written pieces in which his sexuality, like many people's, is more fluid, and where falling in love with her as a friend becomes a great deal more over time. This is one in which their mutual affection for a particular Ducati motorcycle leads to an offer he might not make to anyone else, ever. Oh, vehicle sex, how are you so awesome?

"I can't," Lin says, shaking her head and thrusting the keys at him. "And I _know_ you're gonna think I've gone crazy for turning down the chance to drive that thing, but if you're behind me, no, I can't guarantee our safety like that, no way. _You_ drive."

Pierce grins and takes the keys, and after they've both gotten into their leathers--_leather!_ Lin thinks, already half-dazed from seeing him in so much of it--they grab their helmets and go. Lin wraps her arms around Pierce's waist and lets the Ducati hug the road, trusting Pierce as he dips the bike low to the ground on all the turns.

When they take a break at the side of the road, halfway to the middle of nowhere, she's almost expecting him to bend her over the handlebars and just do her, right there, out in public. She's not sure what she'd even say to that. Chances are pretty good it wouldn't be _hey, are you crazy?_ Chances are pretty good it'd just be _oh God, yeah, you bastard, do me harder!_

But he doesn't do anything like that. He tugs off his helmet and grins at her, and she gets that shivery clench in her gut, the one that makes her glad he's driving instead of her. There's no way she'd know her right from her left if he were pressed up behind her, let alone first gear from third. They'd be lucky not to tip the damn bike.

"Ready to head home?" he asks.

She starts to say no, but there's something in his eyes that makes her curious. There's _something_ he's not asking, and she knows him well enough to know he won't tell her out here, not until they get back, and so she nods and holds him tight as they go home, and when they're in the garage, he takes his helmet off again but doesn't get off the bike.

She follows suit, and he twists halfway around to kiss her. He's hot and sweaty and smells like just a little bit of aftershave, and as sexy as the leather is, there's just too goddamned much of it right now.

He nibbles on her lower lip as he pulls back. "So," he says, very softly, barely audible over all the leather creaking, "I wondered..."

"Mmhm," she says, leaning in and trying to bite at his lips, too--fair's fair. He doesn't let her, but he grins with all his teeth bared, which is so pretty to look at she almost doesn't mind.

"If you still wanted to fuck me."

She boggles at him, eyes probably comically wide. "I. What, _now_?" she stammers, because there's no way the construction of that sentence was an accident. _Her_ fucking _him_. Oh, he knows _exactly_ what he's saying, and is that an _offer_? Is it _really_?

"_Here_," he emphasizes. "I know you'll need to go and get your--" Why he can't say it, she doesn't know, but she doesn't really care, either. It's all she can do not to bolt off the bike (probably falling flat on her face in the bargain) and running upstairs, leather and boots and all, to grab her strap-on.

"Baby. _Yes_," she says, stroking gloved fingers down his cheek. "If this is how you want to do it--"

"Do _you_ want to do it this way?" he asks. He bites her fingertips, hard, because he can when they're this padded. "It doesn't have to be now."

"Are you kidding me?" She pulls her fingers away and leans in to kiss him again. "Don't you fucking move a muscle."

"I'll be right here," he promises. "I won't so much as take off a glove."

She feels like boggling again--Pierce in all that leather and she's going to get to fuck him!--but this time she does ease herself off the bike. She doesn't trip, thank God, and she gets herself upstairs and jerks open the drawers to look for just the right dildo. Not this one, too ridgey. Not that one, she's never liked how it feels anyway. Oh, wait, how about this one--bright red, not realistic at all, but not too big (how often can he possibly get fucked?), and shiny, and it'll match her leather, which is mostly black with some red stripes and accents.

Much as she'd like to just grab all this and go downstairs, she needs some time to prep. It's not like she can put on the strap-on over her leather without everything getting awkward in the moment, which is the last thing she wants--Pierce is probably going to be skittish as a baby horse when she gets to him again.

So she strips from the waist down and slips into the harness, getting everything just right--well, everything except she'll need to put the dildo in when she gets downstairs, but she can manage that, and she is _not_ walking downstairs with her hard-on poking out from her fly and her pants undone. (How men walk around with _their_ hard-ons is a mystery she's never figured out.)

When she's got her boots on again and she's given herself a once-over in front of the bathroom mirror, she goes back downstairs, lube and condom in her pocket, dildo in hand.

Pierce is right where she left him, sitting on the bike. He glances over when she walks in, and she sees it when he notices the dildo, but he doesn't run screaming, so she goes back to the bike and straddles it, wishing she were just the slightest bit taller so she could come up on her toes. That'd help some.

"Okay," she whispers, pressing herself up against his back, putting a hand on his thigh and squeezing. "You still up for this?"

"Yes," he murmurs. He laughs, sounding a little strangled. "More than you know. I'm just trying not to get too guarded."

"I gotcha," she says, kissing his shoulder. Part of her's just squeaking _mm, leather!_, and part of her's thinking about the dildo she's got in her hand, and part of her wants to wrap him up in her arms until he stops feeling scared about all this, but he probably wouldn't take to that, and he probably _will_ take to this if she can just get through it without sounding hesitant about anything.

For a top, she thinks, Pierce sure as hell likes it when people get pushy on him.

"Stay right here," she says, and she unzips her pants and pushes them down past her ass so she can get at her harness. She really doesn't have as much room to move as all that, but it's okay--in the end, she's got enough, and the dildo's right where she needs it, the harness holding it snug against her clit. Awkward, but she'll be able to fuck him this way.

Now it's his turn. She reaches around to the front of his waist and unbuckles his belt. That part she can do blind, but the rest... "Help me out here, hon," she murmurs, and he does, standing up (_bastard, really not fair that you're tall enough to do that_) and shoving his own leather pants down past his ass.

He bends himself over the handlebars and glances over his shoulder. "Like that?" he asks.

"Perfect," she tells him. She rolls the condom down over her dildo, conscious of wanting to be safe about sharing her toys with a partner, and slicks her hand, and then her dick, with lube. She slides two fingers down his cleft, finding his asshole without too much difficulty, and puts one hand on his lower back while her other steadies her dick as she starts pushing in.

She doesn't feel it the way he would, but she can hear him groaning and smell him sweating, and the electric jolt of it slams straight into her clit all the same.

"You tell me if I need to stop," she pants, breathless for this already, but he doesn't say anything, just groans and groans, sounds that remind her of begging.

Pierce. _Begging._ And she did that to him. It's enough to make her get both hands on his hips and fuck into him _hard_, enough to make her clench her teeth and hope he _does_ beg for her. He won't, but she can fantasize about it, about hearing _please_ and _need to come_ out of him, about jerking him off all over his leather jacket and pants and the leather bike seat, too, while she's at it.

He's more insistent about it, though, when the time comes, and he grabs one of her hands and puts it on his dick, keeping his hand over hers as he thrusts into it, pushes back against her. He _does_ come all over both of them--well, all over himself and all over her hand--and that part lives up to all her fantasies, even if she can't come like this.

She gives his sticky dick a squeeze before easing back and climbing off the bike, and he stays collapsed on the handlebars. She grins at him.

"I wish I could carry you upstairs."

"Right now I'd believe you could."

Later, _much_ later, after they've run a bath and he's made up for her lack of orgasms twice, maybe three times over, she kisses his temple and he rests his head on her shoulder, bubbles sticking to both their chests. She'd like to know _why now, why today, why me when there've been so many men you'd never have let inside you like that_, but he'll tell her someday. There's no hurry.

_-end-_


End file.
